


Shadows And Sleep

by ForbiddenToast



Series: Shadows and Dreams [1]
Category: Fall Out Boy
Genre: America's Suitehearts (Music Video), M/M, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-06
Updated: 2015-04-06
Packaged: 2018-03-21 11:16:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 787
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3690183
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ForbiddenToast/pseuds/ForbiddenToast
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He knew it was only a matter of time before the sleeping man would be his, that doesn't mean he can't enjoy this.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Shadows And Sleep

**Author's Note:**

> This was brought to life from another story I've been trying to write for ages and it's just not working out, so this is what I wrote instead. I might finish the other story (which could be in the same 'verse as this I guess) but all I know for sure is all mistakes are mine, Pete turned out creepier than expected and that I hope you enjoy.

Sandman knew it was only a matter of time, but for now he could enjoy this.

He was asleep, curled up in blue blankets with flashes of red hair resting on a pillow barely coming into view, the scene in front of him shouldn’t have been as endearing to the intruder as it was. Dark shadows Sandman called home dancing around his features and making him appear even paler than he was. It had Sandman transfixed, unable to move from where he was in the corner of the room and take his eyes off of the man.

It was just he seemed so small, pure and clean. Untouched by Sandman’s world, he was sleeping well – the soft expression and bottle of sleeping pills on the bedside table being a tell-tell sign. It made Sandman’s chest beat harshly at the fact he would have to destroy this soon; he would have to rip this man savagely from this world which people stressed so much in during the day, and feared him at night. It pained him greatly to think that this beauty would have to become so cold since he seemed so warm now, tucked away in his pyjamas and blankets.

He appeared so different from Sandman, with pale skin, a kind heart and warm on the inside while Sandman was cruel, dark and heartless. But that was part of his appeal to Sandman, he was different. So, so different and just _so_ _perfect._

There was a time when Sandman used to be similar to the sleeping man, he vaguely remembers when he dreamed, when he was capable of loving his girlfriend and crying when someone close to him was hurt. He had been called Pete then, a man with a swooping fringe, too big of a smile and clothes which held colour. Not the black and gold he sported now.

The man in the shadows wondered what would become of _Patrick_ (he spotted the name on a prescription of sleeping pills) once he came to live with him on one of the gloomiest hills in Hollywood Hills. He hoped Patrick would keep the innocent look about him despite what he would be subjected to, perhaps he could wear brighter colours like Donnie or Horseshoe instead of the black Sandman lived in.

He can imagine Patrick’s smile when he shows him around the new world, his face when he sees the carousel and his warm skin when they watch the sky at night, hand in hand.

There were soft sniffling noises drifting through the quiet bedroom which Sandman found adorable, Patrick had most likely gotten a cold from when he walked home from a lecture on medicine in the rain without a jacket; Sandman remembers watching that from afar, admiring how the raindrops rushed down his face elegantly before dripping onto his notes he was trying to protect. He looked amazing then. Flustered and he wonders just how he can get Patrick to look like that again once they’re living together.

It’s a different side of Patrick he’s observing now, a more vulnerable side. During the day he had watched Patrick take no trouble from anyone and he almost feels guilty from drinking the sight in yet again for what must be the one hundredth time. 

Despite feeling like he should, Sandman can’t feel guilty for this. How could he? He _was_ Sandman, he was the reason some kids didn’t sleep at night, the reason that woman was in that mental institution outside town and he was the reason Patrick needed those pills in the first place.

He could only hope the sleeping beauty in the bed could forgive him for what he had done to him and what he was going to do to him. But it would be worth it, Sandman had seen Donnie and Horseshoe - so happy and in love and that was exactly what they would be.

Love, Sandman would experience proper love. That wasn’t what he was doing now, despite how wonderful and mesmerising it was.

_But not tonight,_ he thought, watching the rise and fall of Patrick’s chest in awe. _Tomorrow night, tomorrow night he can come home._

 Stepping deeper into the shadows of Patrick’s small bedroom he continued to tell himself that tomorrow he would do what he had to do to make them happy, that tomorrow he would make Patrick Stump disappear from the life he’d worked hard to build so they could create a happier one in Sandman’s world together.

It would pain Sandman to cause Patrick pain, but it was going to be worth it.  Sandman was going to have the man of _his_ dreams all to himself, they _would_ be happy. Sandman would make sure of it.


End file.
